


All You Had To Do (Was Ask)

by ImNeitherNor



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Admits to being a butt, Billy Has Piercings, Billy is Bassist and Lead, Billy's Just Good At It, Character Development, He's also a cockblocker, M/M, Modern, Rating is for 2nd chapter, Steve Tries to One Up Billy, Steve is a Guitarist and Lead, Tommy and Steve Had a Physical Relationship Once, Tommy tries to play matchmaker, band au, emotional development, he fails a lot, they're still BFFs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNeitherNor/pseuds/ImNeitherNor
Summary: It was fanservice. That was what Steve told himself, and that was why Billy did it. At the end of every show, no matter what song, the crowd went insane when Billy reached over, tangled his fingers into Steve’s hair, and yanked him forward to press their mouths together. The crowd screamed and Steve almost punched him in the nuts every goddamn time. Not because he didn’t want the kiss, but because—because Billy was doing it for fanservice. Billy didn’t like him. Even if he grinned like a wolf at him and winked before they stepped off stage, it was all for show.And, because he was stupid, Steve liked Billy. A lot. The bassist of their band was a powerhouse of muscle and blonde curls and a wicked smile that brought just about anyone to their knees (sexual preference be damned). Steve wasn’t any different, except, well, he was a part of the band and Billy had a habit of kissing him. Steve was tired of it. Tired of feeling like he was being played with or used to sell their albums.No, Steve had a plan.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebilliamhargrove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebilliamhargrove/gifts).



 

            

            It was fanservice. That was what Steve told himself, and that was why Billy did it. At the end of every show, no matter what song, the crowd went insane when Billy reached over, tangled his fingers into Steve’s hair, and yanked him forward to press their mouths together. The crowd _screamed_ and Steve almost punched him in the nuts every goddamn time. Not because he didn’t _want_ the kiss, but because—because _Billy was doing it for fanservice_. Billy didn’t like _him_. Even if he grinned like a wolf at him and winked before they stepped off stage, it was all for show.

 

             And, because he was _stupid_ , Steve _liked_ Billy. A lot. The bassist of their band was a powerhouse of muscle and blonde curls and a wicked smile that brought just about anyone to their knees (sexual preference be damned). Steve wasn’t any different, except, well, he was a part of the _band_ and Billy had a habit of kissing him. Steve was tired of it. Tired of feeling like he was being played with or used to sell their albums.

 

             No, Steve had a plan. Billy wouldn’t one-up him again, and he was going to make sure that Billy _understood_ what the fuck he was signing up for whenever he grabbed him like that. He just had to keep himself from becoming too nervous or, god fucking forbid, chicken out at the last second. Billy wasn’t one to back off, wasn’t one to not do something because of a pinch of fear or doubt. He went full force into everything, even if it was a _terrible_ fucking idea. He’d try anything once, including drugs—like cocaine. Afterward, he had grinned at Steve and said _chicken shit_ right before playing his bass for too long and too loud. He hadn’t done hard drugs since, favoring marijuana after a show or one too many shots of cheap vodka.

 

             Either way, it always ended up with Billy passed out in the tour bus and Steve picking up after him (while also sometimes stoned or half-drunk). But Steve had a plan and a goal, and when he had either of those things, he worked his ass off until he got them. Billy was at the top of his list, and as he picked up another empty can of beer off the floor, Steve shot the blonde, curly-haired douchebag a look. He was sprawled out across the couch, his heavy, steel-toed boots hanging off the side along with his right arm. His left arm was thrown over his face, his middle finger ring glinting under the yellow light. His chest, bare and slick with sweat from the performance, rose and fell in slow succession, and Steve squinted at the necklace that shined brighter than his ring.

 

             “Gonna take a picture?” Billy’s voice drawled out and Steve almost jumped out of his skin.

 

             “Who would want _that_?” Steve scrunched his nose up as Billy tilted his arm to look at him. His eyes were blue. _Vivid_ blue and the amused grin on his face, white teeth gleaming, made Steve want to hurl something at him.

 

             “Oh, I dunno, everyone?” Billy laughed and Steve chucked the empty beer can at him. It hit his stomach and bounced off because _of course it did_. Abs of fucking _steel_. “Rude, Harrington.”

 

             “I’m not the one prancing around half-naked,” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and heard the rustling of Billy’s leather pants as he sat up.

 

             “Are you really complaining about that?” Billy stood just as Steve dropped his hand and opened his eyes again. Like a damned predator, Billy was suddenly in his space, chest-to-chest, and even if Steve was a little taller, Billy’s presence alone made him feel overwhelmed. He could smell the beer on Billy. Beer and sweat and adrenaline from a good show.

 

             “Actually, yeah. The fans like it. I don’t,” Steve pursed his lips and watched Billy look him over, watched his eyes drop to his lips and then up again.

 

             “Liar,” Billy leaned in close, then, and Steve’s heart rate picked up. Billy’s hand pressed against the window, caging Steve in, and his long eyelashes fluttered as he looked him over. “You know how I feel about liars.”

 

             “You wish I was lying,” Steve kicked his chin up and glared until Billy got close enough that they shared breath. Then, he was gone with a laugh, walking down the aisle of the bus toward the bathroom.

 

             _Fuck_.

 

             “You’re just egging him on, y’know,” Tommy piped up and Steve grunted.

 

             “I _know_ that,” Steve shot Tommy a look who just grinned around the blunt pinched between his lips.

 

             “Then why are you doing it?” Tommy’s grin turned sly and Steve felt his cheeks coloring. Tommy was a childhood friend. A _knowing_ friend who could see his ticks and his thoughts better than anyone else. He flipped him off instead of responding and made his way toward the front of the bus.

 

             “What’s that song, Steve? The K-I-S-S—”

 

             “Shut up, Tommy!”

 

             Billy had one-upped him again and Steve knew it, could _feel_ it under his skin. He just had to get better at Billy’s game.

 

~*~

 

             “You order the pizza and I’ll pick it up,” Tommy shrugged and Steve pushed himself further against the couch, his head resting against the bus window. “As long as there aren’t any pineapples on it, we’re good.”

 

             “Pineapples are _delicious_ on pizza,” Billy knitted his eyebrows together and as annoying as he could be, that expression was always cute. A mix of frustration and disbelief was a good look on Billy. “Pair it with Canadian Ham and you have a _real_ meal.”

 

             “That’s fucked up,” Tommy fake-gagged and ducked as Billy threw a crumpled up print-out of old show notes at him.  
  
  


             “I just cleaned this trash heap. Can you not?” Steve glared and Billy’s blue eyes flickered over to him.

 

             “Sure, ma,” Billy’s lips curled and Steve almost kicked his chair.

 

             “And _don’t_ call me that!” Steve threw his hands in the air and Billy laughed, the echo of it making Steve’s heart beat too hard against his chest.

 

             “Deal breaker,” Billy spoke up, pulling his boots up off the small table and planting them next to Tommy’s chair. “Harrington says go on the pineapple, we go. He doesn’t, we go with whatever you want.”

 

             “Or we could just get—” Steve tried to interject, but Tommy crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

 

             “You’re on. Steve!” Tommy turned to him and Steve groaned. He didn’t miss the way Billy’s eyes flashed, the way his lips curled and his tongue poked out to swipe over his lower lip.

 

             “I swear I live with a bunch of fucking kids.”

 

             Despite the back and forth, Steve ordered _two_ pizzas and they all ended up sprawled across the bus, eating and drinking cheap beer while going over their schedule. Their next performance was in Chicago the following night and Steve felt heat crawling into his cheeks. He had a plan. A _good_ plan. He looked over at Billy who was exchanging jabs with Tommy, his lips quirked into a grin and his eyes dark because, as always, Tommy was falling for every one of his jabs.

 

             Eventually, a pepperoni went flying and hit Billy’s chest. One of those dark eyebrows raised, slow but high on his forehead, and Steve scrubbed a hand over his face.

 

             “I’m not cleaning up after you two again,” Steve stood and began to make his way toward the back of the bus. He tripped over Billy’s boot, though, which _hadn’t been there_ five fucking seconds ago. Billy’s arm caught him by the chest and his breath ghosted over his cheek.

 

             “Watch it,” Billy purred and Steve felt his blush run all the way down his neck. “Don’t want to fall, right?”

 

             Steve straightened and pushed Billy’s arm away. He looked down at him, all bright eyes and pretty lips and golden, curly hair. _Asshole_.

 

             “It would help if you didn’t trip me,” Steve put his hands on his hips and Tommy howled out a laugh. It startled him enough that he huffed and stomped off before Billy could get a quip out.

 

             “He’s gonna deck you one of these days,” Tommy mused, still in earshot, even as Steve moved to the other end of the bus and climbed onto one of the small cots.

 

             “I look forward to it.”

 

~*~

 

            Steve had his plan, and Chicago was the place to do it. The crowd was already wild, already screaming, and Billy’s fingers moved over his bass guitar like water over sand. He sang as Steve strummed his own guitar, keeping the rhythm and the beat to the song while Tommy took care of the drums behind them. It was the last song, and Steve knew _exactly_ when Billy would turn to him, when he’d lean over and press their lips together. He knew and like hell he was going to give Billy that power.

 

            He looked over at Billy, and when he missed one of his own notes, Billy tipped his head and turned, curious. Steve shifted and slung his guitar over his shoulder, catching it with one arm before he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. He felt Billy’s intake of breath, heard the volume around them increase, and his own nerves _exploded_. Heat licked up and down his spine and coiled low in his gut, throwing him for a loop. Yet, his plan to catch Billy off guard seemed to have worked.

 

            At least, Steve thought so.

 

            But then Billy pushed his own guitar to the side, wrapped an arm around his waist, and pulled him flush against his body. His hand landed on his ass, squeezed, and Steve gasped in surprise. Billy had never gotten handsy, had never pulled or tugged like this, and Steve felt heavy and dizzy with it. As soon as he broke the kiss, Billy was at his throat, licking a long, wet stripe from the dip above his collarbone to just below his jaw. He moaned, helplessly, and the noise echoed along the crowd through the mic.

 

            The screaming was almost deafening at that point, but it sounded like static to Steve. Static and background noise as Billy’s wet lips brushed right next to his ear.

 

            “Careful, pretty boy. You might give me the wrong idea,” Billy squeezed his ass again as he rocked forward, and Steve was surprised to feel a definite thickness against his thigh. They parted, then, and Steve pulled his guitar back over at the same time Billy did. His head, though, wasn’t on the music, but on the blonde wagging his tongue at the crowd.

 

 _Fuck me_.

 

~*~

 

            The heat of Billy’s tongue and breath across his throat and the way he ground against Steve’s thigh during the concert kept Steve up that night despite his exhaustion. His fingers curled tightly around his own cock, stroking up and stopping near the head to squeeze before rolling down to fondle his balls. His back arched and his eyes closed as he remembered Billy’s voice, low and slightly hoarse from singing for hours. He remembered Billy’s tongue as it swiped over his lips and wondered what it would feel like around his cock, hot and wet and _good_.

 

            When Steve came, the puddle of cum on his stomach and the stickiness across his fingers were only a little embarrassing. He bit his lip to keep his pants quiet and dropped his head back against his pillow. The bus was quiet, the sound of the road beneath the tires a hum in his ears.

 

~*~

 

            “You could just _tell him_ you like him,” Tommy offered as he sipped at his coffee. Steve was sitting across from him, hot chocolate in his hand. He almost sputtered, almost dropped it, and his eyes darted to Tommy.

 

            “ _What_?” Steve glowered and tightened his grip around the cup. They were in some coffee shop in the middle of Atlanta. Billy had ducked out to go explore because he couldn’t sit for long. Restless and in a new place, he was gone before he finished his coffee with a grin and a flip of his middle finger.

 

            “Just tell him,” Tommy rolled his eyes and sank back into the sofa. The place smelled of coffee beans and pastries, rich and thick, just the way Steve liked it. “I mean, the worst thing he could do is tell you no.”

 

            “How am I getting relationship advice from _you_?” Steve squinted at him and then huffed as Tommy laughed.

 

            “You’re not. I’m fucking awful at those. But I know that look, Steve, and I know you,” Tommy licked his lips and Steve’s cheeks warmed. They did know each other, and well at that. Tommy knew just about every mark on Steve’s body. He knew where to kiss and bite and squeeze to make Steve squirm, but that was a long time ago.

 

            “You and Carol seem to be going steady,” _despite being on the road_ went unsaid.

 

            “She’s pretty amazing,” Tommy’s lips quirked and he shook his head. “This isn’t about us, though, man. You’ve got it bad. Just _tell_ him.”

 

            “And risk breaking the band up?” Steve looked down at his cup and shook his head. “We just made it semi-big. That isn’t happening.” He could feel Tommy’s eyes on him, assessing him. No matter what Billy said about Tommy being an idiot, he _wasn’t_. He may not have been great with books in school, but he read people _really_ fucking well.

 

            “Doesn’t matter if we’re semi-big or not. You gotta do something before you become miserable,” Tommy’s eyes softened and Steve pressed his lips together.

 

            “Mind your damned business,” Steve muttered.

 

            “Love you, too,” Tommy grinned and nudged Steve’s shin with his chucks.

 

            “Fuck you, man.” Steve laughed and knocked Tommy’s foot away from his leg. _Do something before you become miserable_ spiraled in his head, though, and he looked out the large glass panel of the shop as his mind wandered to Billy.

 

            Steve knew he was giving Billy unnecessary power, just like he had with Nance, but he was stupid and his heart was too big and once he decided he liked someone, it was over.

 

            And he had liked Billy long before they decided to play together.

 

~*~

 

            “You _lost_ ,” Tommy pointed out. “So you _have to_.”

 

            “But this is stupid! That’s his thing!” Steve whined and he knew he sounded petulant but he didn’t _care_.

 

            “You lost the bet!” Tommy laughed and Steve glowered as he was pushed into the chair.

 

            “I won’t bite,” Billy promised, his grin all teeth. “Hard, anyway. Besides, I’ll _try_ not to poke your eye out.”

 

            “Try isn’t good enough,” Steve sank down into the sofa and kicked the chair Billy sat in. Billy just laughed and shook his head. He pulled his chair forward and knocked Steve’s knees to the side so he could get close. The liquid eyeliner pen in his hand was already open, already ready and poised in a steady, practiced hand. “I swear, if you draw a dick on my face--”

 

            “As attractive as that would be, that’s not happening,” Billy cupped Steve’s cheek and tilted his face toward him. Steve felt his cheeks warm, his eyes popping wide as Billy leaned forward. Their breaths mingled while Billy looked at his eyes. “Besides, I _like_ wearing liner. I think you would, too, if you just fuckin’ tried it and stopped bitching.”

 

            “That doesn’t look like liner,” Steve accused as Billy adjusted the tube in his left hand.

 

            “It’s gold, or amber,” Billy shrugged. “Black would make your eyes too dark. Amber matches better,” of course, Billy ducked away before Steve could see the expression on his face. Steve didn’t ask why Billy would know what colors would match his eyes, or why he even _knew_ gold would look good on him.

 

            Suddenly, why or how Billy knew didn’t matter because he was sitting close to Steve, his hand back on Steve’s cheek to manipulate the skin around his eye. Billy’s hand moved in slow, precise movements and Steve could feel the liquid spread over his skin. He tried not to blink, and when he did, Billy gave him a look.

 

            “I _will_ bite you if you move again,” Billy warned and Steve hesitated. He shifted and raised an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes. A _do it_. Billy saw it and leaned over, nipping his teeth over Steve’s neck, right where he had licked that night in Chicago. Steve’s breath hitched and his fingers clamped down on his thighs, where he had been rubbing his palms.

 

            “You call that a bite?” Steve really should have just shut his mouth, if he was honest with himself, because Billy leaned over and sank his teeth into his throat. It was hard enough to mark and forced a squeak, a particularly undignified noise, to bubble up from the back of his throat.

 

            “You asked for it,” Billy licked his lips as he sat back and flashed Steve that same predatory grin. “Now stop fucking moving so I can finish.”

 

            The bite on Steve’s throat ached, but not in a bad way. He did his best to keep his breathing even, but when Billy’s eyes, blue and sharp, dropped to the bulge in his jeans, his lungs and cheeks burned. Billy looked up at him again, brows knitted together, and pulled the eyeliner away after one final touch.

 

            “Done,” Billy licked his lower lip, a slow movement that Steve knew was purposeful and he fell for it, his eyes catching the way it left his lip wet and shiny. “Looks good, Harrington. Less like a preppy mama’s boy and more like a rocker.”

 

            “Shut up,” Steve hissed and stood, which was a fucking _mistake_ because now Billy was eye-level with his hard-on, and it wasn’t like Steve was _small_ , so it was _noticeable_. He tried to side step, but Billy caught his hip, his thumb hooking through one of his belt loops. “What are you doing?” Steve could hear the sliver of panic in his voice, and when he turned his head to get backup from Tommy, he was _suspiciously absent_.

 

            “You like it rough?” Billy looked up through his lashes and Steve about had a fucking heart attack. His eyes were so, so blue and his lips were pink. His curls were up in a messy bun, some had come loose to frame his face. Steve would have made a joke about how it looked better than that goddamn mullet he had before, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and his lips were refusing to work. Billy just smirked at him and ran his stubbled cheek over his clothed stomach, just above the hem of his jeans, before he stood. They were close, chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip, and Steve startled when he felt just how hard Billy was against his thigh. _Again_.

 

            “Are you anything _but_ rough?” Steve quipped back and _yes_ , he still had brain power. It wasn’t _all_ in his dick.

 

            “You’d be surprised,” Billy brushed his cheek over Steve’s, just like he had on his stomach, and Steve was _pretty sure_ he kissed just next to his ear before he stepped back. “Gold looks good on you, pretty boy.”

 

            The heat was gone as Billy stepped back, winked, and walked toward his preferred seat. Steve stood, slightly dizzy, slightly off balance, and a whole lot of sexually frustrated.

 

~*~

 

            The ground below them moved at a blur. Steve’s legs burned just as badly as his lungs did because they were _running_ and he was laughing too hard. Eventually, Billy ducked off to the side, snagged Steve’s arm, and yanked him into the small area between two buildings. The wind was gone and all Steve could smell was the city and Billy’s cologne and cigarettes as he stood, squished between Billy’s chest and the brick wall.

 

            “Sh,” Billy snorted and pressed the palm of his hand over Steve’s mouth. His blue eyes were wide, vibrant, his lips curled in a wide smile that had Steve’s heartbeat clattering. Steve tried to kill his laughter as he squirmed against Billy. The thumps of running feet froze him, though, and he held still as the group of teenage girls flew past them.

 

            Once the sound was distant enough for Steve to feel comfortable, he licked a long stripe over Billy’s hand. Billy yanked away with a sound of disgust, his nose scrunched up and his eyebrows knitted together.

 

            “ _Gross_ , Harrington,” Billy wiped his hand across Steve’s polo and then leaned out. “Do you think Tommy survived?”

 

            “Probably?” Steve laughed. “He’s going to _kill_ us for bailing, though.”

 

            “I was about to get _climbed_ ,” Billy protested. “No _thanks_.”

 

            _I’d climb you any day_. Steve blinked at the thought and then shook his head. “We should probably make sure that Tommy’s still alive.”

 

            “That’s unfortunate,” Billy grunted as Steve elbowed him. “ _What_?”

 

            “He’s the best drummer _and_ he’s my best friend,” Steve shot Billy a look who shrugged.

 

            “Also a cockblocker,” Billy mused.

 

            “I… didn’t need to know that,” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

 

            “You sure?” Billy didn’t need to move much so that they shared breath, their lips too close and Billy’s eyes too blue.

 

            “Sure,” Steve managed and swallowed.

 

            “Too bad,” Billy shrugged, smirked, and eased out onto the sidewalk.

 

            Steve, at least, had a decent view of his ass as he walked away.

 

            “You coming, Harrington?”

 

            “Uh--yeah--” _in more ways than one_.

 

~*~

 

            “You left me!” Tommy whined as he shoved Steve. Billy had diverted to a smoke shop while Steve and Tommy walked to what Steve _hoped_ was a coffee shop. He _liked_ his caffeine and cocoa and anything warm. Sue him.

 

            “I did not _leave_ you,” Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s dramatic, Tommy.”

 

            “You left me and ran off with _him_ ,” Tommy made a face and Steve paused, his brown eyes steady on his best friend.

 

            “I ran like hell and you’re too out of shape to keep up,” Steve corrected, but he reached out to squeeze Tommy’s arm, nonetheless. “And I’m not gonna like, disappear with him or whatever.”

 

            Tommy pursed his lips and looked uncertain, and for the first time, Steve realized Tommy was _worried_ about the two of them--him and Billy.

 

            “You’re my best friend since _childhood_ ,” Steve reminded. “And you’re buying my coffee.”

 

            “How does that make me your best friend?” Tommy pushed Steve hard enough to make him stumble again and Steve laughed.

 

            “Because _you_ aren’t fit enough to keep up with _me_ , so _you_ technically left me with Billy. That’s real abandonment, right there.”

 

            “God dammit, Steve.”

 

~*~

 

            The club was crowded, but that was expected on a Saturday night. Except, it wasn’t any normal Saturday. Billy was on a mission to get _plastered_ , and Steve couldn’t get the reason out of his mouth. He had needled him all day, but Billy simply rolled his eyes and said _why not_. They didn’t have a show, at least, so Steve let it go and followed Billy to what Yelp had described as _the best club_ in Minneapolis.

 

            What it left out, though, was that it was a _gay_ club and it was blatantly obvious after they walked in. The music was loud enough, bass-heavy enough, to vibrate the roots of Steve’s teeth, and the couples dancing together or--rather--trying to _fornicate on the fucking dance floor_ , made his ears hot. But Billy seemed to enjoy it. He lit up as soon as they ducked into the crowd and Steve couldn’t help but smile at that.

 

            “Bar?” Steve called over the music and Billy bobbed his head in a _yes_. They moved through the crowd, and at some point, Billy grabbed his wrist to keep them together. When they got to the bar, Billy leaned forward, his upper body clad in only fishnet and a leather jacket, the rings on his nipples clearly visible. Steve noticed the way he shifted, the way he opened his jacket and smiled at the bartender, all charm and clever finesse.

 

            Steve was too distracted by Billy’s body to hear his drink order, but he _did_ see the bartender smack his shoulder and grin. It startled him out of his stupor and he was suddenly back in the real world--not in _Steve experiments to see if Billy’s nipple piercings are as sensitive as they say they are_ world.

 

            “Happy birthday, man!” The bartender laughed and Billy’s grin widened.

 

            Steve about kicked him.

 

            “It’s your _birthday_?” Steve made a sharp gesture, “ _Seriously_? And you couldn’t _tell me_?”

 

            Billy shrugged and licked over his lips. “You gonna give me birthday spankings, pretty boy?” He teased, loud enough for Steve to hear, and _definitely_ loud enough for the bartender to hear. He felt his cheeks turn red, felt that heat trickle into his neck.

 

            But damn if Billy wasn’t going to get _some_ bite back.

 

            “Later, baby,” Steve leaned forward and caught the spike of Billy’s earing with his teeth. He tugged once before moving away, ridiculously satisfied by the gasp he heard and the way Billy’s eyes trailed to his mouth.

 

            “Looking forward to it,” Billy grabbed his drink and smirked, already recovered and _fuck him_ for being so good at this.

 

            “How old are you?” Steve asked before he ordered. He turned back to Billy, who was sucking on the straw of his own drink.

 

            “Twenty one.”

 

            If Steve had been walking, he would have face-planted. He _still_ felt like face-planting.

 

            “You’re _what_?” He stared, open-mouthed, and then took the drink with a quick _thanks_ to the bartender. “You--how did you--but the bars we were at--how did you even--”

 

            “Oooh, sweetheart,” Billy laughed and stepped close to Steve and that cologne that made Steve want to _climb_ him invaded his nose. He shivered as Billy licked a stray drop of drink from his straw. “I have ways. You know that.”

 

            “ _Jesus_.”

 

            “Not my name, but you _could_ be saying that later.” Billy gave Steve a hot once over before heading onto the dance floor, and Steve may have had to shift to adjust himself in his jeans before he followed.

 

~*~

 

            Steve woke with a raging headache and a dry mouth. He blinked several times and stared up at the ceiling of what looked like a hotel room. How the fuck did he end up here? He blinked again, but it did nothing to clear his thoughts. The weight and heat of another person’s body brought his gaze down and to the left, and he blanched.

 

            Billy was asleep, knocked the fuck out, tucked against Steve’s side with a muscled arm thrown over Steve’s waist. They were both dressed, at least. Well, Billy still had jeans on. That was a good sign. They hadn’t even managed to get under the covers before passing out.

 

            Steve glanced over Billy’s face. His eyelashes were dark with mascara and there were purple streaks from where his eyeliner had apparently melted off. The bun his hair had been in had failed miserably, curls everywhere and soft from lack of product.

 

            He was gorgeous, really. More so than he had any right to be. Steve sighed and looked over at the clock and then the phone. He’d call for room service. Specifically for food and coffee. Otherwise, Billy just might kill him when he woke up.

 

~*~

 

            Billy appreciated the coffee. The smile he offered Steve was one of the softest ones he had witnessed yet.

 

~*~

 

            The show in Dallas was sold out. It would be their biggest yet, and Steve had a _plan_. Not a great, one-hundred-percent awesome plan. But a plan. Except, well, Billy _ruined it_. They were on stage, and Billy was wearing more clothes than necessary, considering it was _Texas_ and Steve was already sweating bullets down his spine as they played.

 

            It wasn’t even halfway through the show when Billy sidled up to him, their lips close to the mic, together. This wasn’t abnormal, but Billy smelled _good_ and Steve had to concentrate on the lyrics, on his fingers that moved over the guitar, on the way Billy’s voice dropped when it was supposed to and his eyelashes fluttered like they always did at this point. The crowd was screaming, singing along, crying their names like they dreamed of.

 

            Then, with half the show still left to go, Billy backed up and dragged his tongue over his lips while looking squarely at Steve. _I have to play. I have to sing. Billy is going to **kill me**_. Steve watched as Billy sang, as his tenor voice washed over his body and lit it up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

 

            “ _And I see home in your eyes,_

_Longing on your lips,_

_And pain in your cheeks,_

_And I know I put it there~”_

 

            Billy must have practiced. He _had_ to have practiced, because then he was slipping out of his jacket and Steve recognized the button down underneath and the fishnet under the buttons. He watched, going on autopilot, his brain barely functioning as Billy dropped his jacket. The leather fell to the floor next to his feet and the maroon button up underneath looked like sin against the dark tan of his skin and the white of the fishnet below.

 

            Then, Billy began to undo the last two buttons on his shirt because, for some reason, he couldn’t fucking button the rest on a regular basis. It fell away, revealing the fishnet, his abs, his nipple piercings. The crowd screamed and Steve probably would have, should have, as Billy rolled his hips and tipped his head back. He still held eye contact with Steve, eyelids low and cheeks flushed from the heat on stage.

 

            “ _But baby,_

_I can’t help it,_

_Your cries and screams for more_

_Push me further down the rabbit hole_.”

 

            Steve felt like Billy was singing _to_ him. Not at the crowd, but to him. His whole body felt hot, and it had nothing to do with them being in Texas anymore. He watched, his eyes tracing Billy’s fingers as they explored over his collarbone, his chest, flicked past the rings that pushed against the fishnet, and then to his stomach. He couldn’t help himself and he knew he was hardening in his jeans and whoever was up front would notice. If the cameras were on him, it would be _obvious_.

 

            Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. He also knew, though, that he _needed_ to one-up Billy. He had to make it so that this was a win for _him_. Instead of continuing to gape, instead of just _letting_ himself be teased, Steve stepped forward. He reached out, curled a finger in one of the belt loops of Billy’s leather pants, and yanked him forward. Billy grinned, all teeth, and his eyes sparkled. Steve was _sure_ there was surprise there, a flash that crossed over Billy’s face, but he didn’t watch him long enough to know for sure.

 

            He grabbed the hem of Billy’s fishnet with his free hand, kept the other hooked in his pants, and pushed the fabric up the muscles of his stomach and over his right pectoral. The fishnet caught Billy’s piercing, tugged just enough that Steve could hear the hitch in his voice as he continued to sing. Then, as Steve looked up to _make sure_ Billy was watching him, he dragged his tongue over Billy’s nipple and then closed his mouth to pull at the ring.

 

            Billy couldn’t keep singing. He moaned, a short noise interrupted by a hitched breath. Steve smirked to himself before he pulled away, swung his guitar back to its rightful place, and licked his lips at Billy. All he could hear was buzzing in his ears, but they still had half a show to go, and he needed to get his shit together. As much as he wanted to continue, they had a show to do and a crowd to impress.

 

            The looks Billy sent him throughout the show could have lit him on fire-- _should have_ lit him on fire--but Steve continued to sing and play like having Billy’s skin in his mouth, the taste of metal on his tongue, didn’t coil his spine and steal his breath.

 

 

~*~

 

            After the show, Tommy _disappeared_. Steve tried to find him. Searched the back room of the stage, the VIP area, the tour bus, but it seemed like he had whisked up in a flume of smoke and _vanished_. Steve furrowed his eyebrows and turned around, two feet from climbing down the bus steps when an irritable Billy climbed up. When their eyes met, Steve felt a sliver of panic coil into his gut. He never saw Billy look so irritated--perhaps _angry_.

 

            “Hargrove--”

 

            Billy was in his face, then, chest-to-chest, anger glittering in those blue as as he caged Steve against the nearest wall with his arms. The muscles, if Steve looked close enough, trembled. Billy searched his face, looked over his eyes and then his lips and then his body before they dragged back up.

 

            “What the fuck was that, Harrington?” Billy demanded. Steve could still smell the sweat, the adrenaline from a good show, Billy’s cologne, and finally, his hairspray. Yet, the anger that bubbled into his stomach overpowered any sense of _want_ that had been simmering just below his skin.

 

            “What do you mean, _what the fuck was that_?” Steve bit back, “It’s not like you can have a problem with it. You kiss me on stage _all_ the time! You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”

 

            Billy’s cheeks mottled red and his eyebrows knitted together. He looked like he wanted to punch Steve, and really, Steve was ready for it. He’d throw back. He might not be as strong as Billy, but he was fast on his feet and he would give him a run for his money. Then, something surprising flashed across Billy’s face. It was a mix of confusion and maybe-- _maybe hurt_ \--and Steve never felt so fucking confused in his life.

 

            “You can’t _do_ that shit,” Billy hissed and leaned in closer. The hurt was gone from his face, replaced by just anger, and Steve wanted answers. He _deserved_ answers. “I kiss you _once_ every show and it’s for the _fans_ \--”

 

            “You don’t think about how I feel!” Steve snapped and then swallowed down the urge to run. Running wouldn’t do them any good. Fleeing _never_ solved his problems. “You just did it and kept doing it and never _asked_ me!”

 

            “You didn’t tell me to stop!” Billy smacked his palm against the wall, next to Steve’s head, and it almost made him jump. “You acted like it was fine!”

 

            “It wasn’t!” Steve saw that hurt again and when Billy tried to cover it up, he thought _fuck it_ , and shoved Billy back. He managed to get him against the other wall, and really, Billy could have fought him off. He could have shoved him back. He _could have_ prevented himself from being pinned back against the cabinets, but he didn’t.

 

            Both of their breathing was labored at that point. Billy’s hands fell, loose at his sides, and Steve couldn’t get him to _look_ at him. He searched Billy’s face until they were almost nose to nose.

 

            “Sorry,” Billy finally muttered, and it sounded like the word was being _ripped_ from him, like it physically ached to say it. “I’m _sorry_ , Steve.”

 

            “You could just _ask_ me,” Steve pressured and tried to ignore the way his body lit up as Billy said his name. “Just _ask_ me.”

 

            “There’s no point now,” Billy grit his jaw. Steve saw it. He watched the muscle jump and clench.

 

            “Do it, Billy,” Steve frowned. “I’m not moving until you _ask_.”

 

            “Why would you want me to ask now? Why would you want me to kiss you after _this_?” Billy looked like he wanted to shrink back into the cabinets. Maybe melt into them. He looked smaller than Steve ever remembered him being.

 

            “Because I _like_ you,” Steve wanted to sigh. He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose and shake his head, but the way Billy’s head snapped up, the way his eyes widened? They made Steve’s chest and stomach do a whole bunch of funny shit he wasn’t okay with. “You could have just _asked_ and I would have said _yes_ because I _like_ you.”

 

            Steve had never seen Billy Hargrove speechless, but he had to admit, he liked it. He liked how the color in Billy’s cheeks from earlier spread to his neck, how his lips parted as surprise flickered through his eyes. He liked that when he pressed closer, Billy tipped his head up and seemed to fill his own skin again. Instead of looking small, he became pliant against the cabinets and his muscles relaxed. Steve watched Billy transform into what he _knew_ , low-lidded, smooth, and with a little, sly smirk on his face.

 

            “Can I kiss you, then, Steve Harrington?” Billy asked and Steve heard _hope_ in his voice.

 

            “On and off stage, asshole,” Steve grinned and before Billy got a chance to actually kiss him, he ducked down and slotted their lips together. It was a dry kiss, soft and sweet and _perfect_.

 

            “Steve--”

 

            “ _Fucking finally_ ,” Tommy’s voice snapped both of their heads up and Steve probably went the color of a fucking tomato. “First, what the _fuck_ took you two so long, and second, I’m noping _right_ out of this shit.” He flipped them both off, but Steve could see the hint of a grin as Tommy stomped right back out of the bus.

 

            “Cockblocker,” Billy reminded him and Steve laughed.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becoming friends with Billy had been surprisingly easy after he was pulled from his home. It was like all the sharp edges had been smoothed down. He was still a dick to the kids Steve babysat, even Max, but it was less vicious and more out of annoyance--more like an annoyed parent, really. There had been a couple of times where Steve had to convince Billy that it was a bad idea to throw Max into the pool, who was, inevitably, a flailing ball of red hair in Billy’s arms.
> 
>  
> 
> It worked. Sometimes. She still got thrown in a couple of times. One or two phones had been ruined. Steve always picked up the tab. He was happy to, actually, considering his parents’ house was bursting with energy and people and he wasn’t alone anymore. It was sort of pathetic, now that Steve looked back on it, but Billy had made his house a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is here! Thanks to EVERYONE who sat and waited, to those who leave kudos, comments, and love on my Tumblr. You can always message/ramble at me over there at SaChanPwns. :)
> 
> As always, thanks to my alpha beta who goes through my writing (@usstrashbarge). I love you. :)
> 
> Warning: Steve is a little bossy and maybe a _little_ done with being teased.

 

 

 

            Ever since Steve had that discussion with Billy about _asking permission_ and basic consent, the guy had been careful. He kissed him at shows still-- _senseless_. When the crowd screamed, Billy would invade his mouth, take him until he was breathless and the headlines were _all over_ the fact that they were an _item_ and not just two “ _fuck bois”_ selling records. Steve thought it was nice, but Billy looked--a little on edge. He expected that. Selling records was one thing, but an actual relationship with someone of the _same sex_? After he was tossed around by Neil?

 

 

            Steve had witnessed that first hand and no fucking thanks. Billy hadn’t lived with Neil since he was eighteen. It took _one_ time. Steve saw Neil grab Billy once by the jaw, saw his other hand clenched into a fist, bicep taunt, ready to hit, and then Neil was on the ground and Billy was being hauled back against Steve’s chest. He knew Neil smacked Billy around, but seeing it was different. Seeing Billy go pliant and submissive was _different_. Steve couldn’t stomach it and he moved Billy into his house under the premise of the _band_. They were barely friends at that point, but Billy was polite to his parents (when they were in town), and he was more of a clean freak than Steve was (which surprised him).

 

 

            They had watched a lot of movies together. Billy’s spines (like a fucking hedgehog, maybe even a porcupine) falling away from him whenever he dozed on the couch. He looked a lot younger then, and Steve still liked to believe that Billy fell asleep because he was comfortable, not because he was exhausted by life. It was probably a mixture of both. Fortunately, there were a lot of pool parties complete with Billy throwing him into the water and flipping him off. There was a lot of ice-dropping down the backs of shirts on hot days and full-clothed swimming after Steve kicked Billy into the deep end, too.

 

 

            Becoming friends with Billy had been surprisingly easy after he was pulled from his home. It was like all the sharp edges had been smoothed down. He was still a dick to the kids Steve babysat, even Max, but it was less vicious and more out of annoyance--more like an annoyed parent, really. There had been a couple of times where Steve had to convince Billy that it was a _bad idea_ to throw Max into the pool, who was, inevitably, a flailing ball of red hair in Billy’s arms.

 

 

            It worked. Sometimes. She still got thrown in a couple of times. One or two phones had been ruined. Steve always picked up the tab. He was happy to, actually, considering his parents’ house was bursting with energy and _people_ and he wasn’t alone anymore. It was sort of pathetic, now that Steve looked back on it, but Billy had made his house a home.

 

 

            Steve had realized that a long time ago, which is, he guessed, when he started to have feelings for the asshole. Asshole with a capital ‘A’.

 

 

            It had been two weeks since he had pinned Billy up against the cabinets in the bus and kissed him. Two weeks and that was all they had done--kissing. Steve wanted more, _craved_ more, but Billy was cautious and would let his hands wander for just a second--over his sides, his ass, his thighs, and then he would pull away with a grin and kiss the corner of Steve’s mouth. He wasn’t sure if Billy’s reluctance was because of the ‘discussion’ or if he was _actually_ hesitant to do anything more with Steve.

 

            Either way, it was driving Steve _crazy_.

 

 

~*~

 

 

            “Do I _look_ like I give good relationship advice?” Tommy drawled as he spread his hands wide to gesture at himself. He leaned back against the comfortably worn sofa in the middle of a coffee shop in Orlando. Steve wasn’t sure how Billy found these places, but he always managed to steer Steve toward a good coffee shop whenever they played in a new city. It was endearing, but also _infuriating_.

 

 

            “Who the fuck else am I supposed to go to?” Steve tugged at his hair and dug his elbows into his knees. His iced coffee sat, untouched, on the low table in front of them. “I don’t know what to do! He was all over me before and now he just--”

 

 

            “First, I don’t need to know. I’ve seen enough from my set,” Tommy made a face, “Second, you said you like… ranted at him about consent or some shit?”

 

 

            “I mean, _yeah_ , but if we’re a _thing_ ,” Steve gestured wildly with one hand. At least he wasn’t pulling on his hair. “Shouldn’t he be, y’know--like before?”

 

 

            “I dunno, man,” Tommy shrugged and reached out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “You’re dating Billy Hargrove. What did you expect?”

 

 

            And wasn’t that the million dollar question. What had Steve expected? A happily ever after? Billy was a rubix cube and Steve had issues putting together a _puzzle_ , much less a complex set of colors that twist this way and that.

 

 

            “I guess…” Steve trailed off and looked out the window of the shop. He spotted Billy across the way. He was chatting up, or being chatted up, by a small group of girls. They were watching him in a way that Steve recognized, and when Billy smiled, bright and charming, he looked away. “I don’t know what I expected.”

 

 

            “Don’t look too much into that,” Tommy warned and Steve huffed as he thought about Nancy. “He’s talking to people, Steve. It’s _nothing_.” His friend, _best friend_ , knew where his mind was going. “He’s not Nancy.”

 

 

            Steve wished he didn’t feel that pinch of doubt in his stomach. Billy was a charmer, all around, and it was _fine_ that he was grinning at a bunch of girls. It was _fine_ that one of them touched his arm and he didn’t pull away. It was _fine_ that he looked relaxed and in his element.

 

 

            _It was fine_.

 

 

~*~

 

 

            Steve knew his jealousy was ridiculous, especially as Billy crowded him up against the row of sinks in the restaurant bathroom. He reached back and clutched at the lip of the countertop as Billy’s tongue dipped into his mouth, tasting the celebratory champagne from selling their first half a million records, CDs, songs, _whatever_. They had been celebrating and Billy had tucked his fingers around the back of Steve’s neck, squeezed gently, and walked away. A silent _come here_. A silent _I’m waiting for you_.

 

 

            Now, Steve was breathless. He parted his thighs and Billy pressed between them. His hands, smaller than Steve’s, but rougher, gripped his hips and then his ass. Steve gasped as he was lifted off the floor by his thighs and set on the counter. It made his skin hot and his head light. _Christ_ , Billy was stupid-strong. He cupped Billy’s face, his stubble scratching at his palms as he pushed forward into the kiss. He liked that Billy backed off, that he pulled away just enough for Steve to lick into his mouth, suck his lower lip, explore just as much as Billy had.

 

 

            There was no hard fight for dominance. Billy gave just as much as he demanded, and that made Steve’s world tilt precariously on its side. He knew Billy didn’t give for other people. He _knew_ that, so his jealousy earlier had been stupid and unfounded and _when the hell_ did Billy learn to _kiss like this_? Steve pulled back so he could breathe and Billy started to kiss along his jaw. He licked and bit right beneath, where Steve’s heartbeat thumped the hardest, and then sucked.

 

 

            “ _Billy_ ,” Steve wrapped his legs around Billy’s waist and pulled him forward. Like _hell_ was he going to let Billy just leave him this time. That wasn’t happening. Not again. He buried his fingers in Billy’s hair and pushed out the tie that kept everything in place. His curls spilled over Steve’s hands and he clutched to him as Billy’s mouth swept over his throat, his neck, just above the collar of his shirt.

 

 

            “Pretty sure the restaurant wouldn’t appreciate us doing this,” Billy muttered against his throat and Steve absolutely fucking _whined_. Son of a _bitch_.

 

 

            “Fuck,” Steve blew out a harsh breath and slumped against the mirror, positioned awkwardly over the sink. What he didn’t expect, though, was the automated faucet. The water turned on when it detected motion and splashed over his lower back, soaking his jeans, and Steve jerked forward with a noise of indignation. “What the _fuck_ \--”

 

 

            Steve was going to kill Billy. The guy was _laughing_ at him, full on belly laughs as he wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and hauled him off the sink and back onto his feet.

 

 

            “Gonna have to save this for later, yeah?” Billy’s eyes dropped to the impressive bulge in Steve’s pants and Steve watched him dart his tongue over his lips. “Might wanna fix yourself up before heading back out there.” Billy patted his hip and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

 

            Billy left and Steve knew it would take a couple of minutes to calm down, to pull himself back together. He _was_ going to get a hold of Billy and they _were_ going to do more than kiss. It was his _entire_ goal for the night.

 

 

            Instead, they both got stupidly drunk and Tommy had to call an Uber to get them back to the hotel.

 

 

~*~

 

 

            When Steve woke with a nasty hangover, this time it was Billy who had ordered breakfast and was waiting with hot coffee and a small smile.

 

 

~*~

 

 

            The next time Steve’s jealousy flared, Billy was being his charming, witty self _right in front of him_. His lips were quirked in that captivating smile of his. His eyes glittered as he spoke to the girls and Steve counted to ten in his head. It was polite conversation, really. Truly, it was, but that shit in the back of his head was driving him nuts. What if Billy ended up with a girl? What if he realized how stupid he was for being with another guy? He could literally have _anyone_ and he was dating another guy, who, Steve might add, he hadn’t done anything but _kiss_ in weeks.

 

           

            Steve finally had enough when Billy squeezed one of the girl’s shoulders. She giggled, soft and cute and _so girly_. He spun around on his heel and walked away. It wasn’t _abnormal_ for them to get stopped by fans, but Steve was awkward and goofy and Billy was--god, he was a walking sex icon and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like how easily people fell into it or how easily Billy responded.

 

 

            It also maybe, _definitely_ , bothered him that Billy didn’t follow him.

 

 

~*~

 

 

            Steve avoided Billy for a couple of hours. He wandered around town, drank too much coffee, and thought about the way those girls had looked at Billy. He had looked so calm, so _happy_ , like he _belonged_. Steve wondered if he felt like that around him. If he didn’t, then what was the point? What did Steve have to do to make him feel like that? To put _that_ expression on his face? Did he wear it and Steve just didn’t notice? Was that even possible?

 

 

            He knew he was being petulant. He even _felt_ petulant, but he wanted to be the reason Billy looked so charmed. He wanted to put that look on his face. That wasn’t so much to ask, right? Steve shoved his hands into his pockets as he crossed the street toward the hotel.

 

 

            “ _Harrington_.”

 

 

            Well, Billy hadn’t called him _that_ in a while. Steve was almost at the revolving doors when he turned and looked at Billy. He looked irritated--almost like an angry kitten… if a kitten were a lion and that lion was stalking its prey. He swallowed and watched as Billy’s lips curled.

 

 

            “What the hell was that? You just up and disappear and not answer your fucking phone?” Billy pulled his own out and waved it in front of Steve’s face, as if he didn’t know what the damned thing was. “Hello? _Steve_?”

 

 

            “It’s nothing,” Steve frowned and then winced as Billy invaded his personal space. He looked around and wondered how much attention they were drawing. “Seriously, _Hargrove_.”

 

 

            Something flashed in Billy’s eyes. Hurt, maybe, but Billy had thrown out Harrington before, so--so _that_ was that.

 

 

            “We need to talk,” Billy settled on and his voice was strained, like a thin wire about to snap. “Inside.”

 

 

            “Okay,” Steve rolled his eyes. Talking with Billy was like talking to a brick. Billy’s version of ‘talking’ was glaring at a wall while Steve _tried_ to pry and figure out what was wrong. Billy’s talking wasn’t _actual_ talking, so he doubted this would be any different. He followed Billy inside and avoided his eyes in the elevator. He couldn’t get away from the _fuck you_ vibe Billy was giving off, though. He could feel the heat of his body, of his eyes, and he felt small under it all.

 

 

            _You’re stupid, Steve Harrington_ , Nancy had said. Probably.

 

 

            _He’s not Nancy_ , Tommy had said. No, Billy wasn’t Nancy, but right now, Steve felt really fucking stupid.

 

 

            As soon as they were in the hotel room, Billy kicked his shoes off and paced across the carpet. Steve flopped down in the seat next to the window and waited. Minutes went by. Billy still paced, like a caged animal, and it reminded Steve of when he was wound up after fights with Neil.

 

 

            Steve didn’t want to do that to him. He didn’t want to be _Neil_ , no matter how frustrated he was.

 

 

            “You wanted to talk,” Steve hedged. He watched Billy’s shoulders go tight and his hands form fists.

 

 

            “Why did you leave earlier?” Billy had his back turned to him. He was talking to the wall, and it was _so like_ him to do this shit. He wanted to talk, but he couldn’t even _look_ at Steve.

 

 

            “I didn’t think you’d notice,” Steve replied, and it was _definitely_ bitter and maybe a little mean.

 

 

            “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Billy was biting his words out now. He was frustrated. Steve could see it in the way he shifted from one foot to the other.

 

 

            “You were preoccupied with those girls,” Steve frowned and dug his fingers into the chair. There. He sort of admitted he was jealous.

 

 

            “Preoccupied…?” Billy turned around, _finally_ , and looked at him like he had grown another head. “They were fans. They wanted pictures and shit. Like _normal_. What the fuck does that have to do with you? Why would that matter _now_?”

 

 

            “Because!” Steve tossed his hands into the air and then sagged back against the seat. “Because you look _so fucking happy_ with them, and with me…” He trailed off and bit his cheek.

 

 

            Billy shifted on his feet and then walked closer to the chair. “So,” he started, and Steve tilted his head up so he could watch him, “you’re upset because I look _happy_ with them. What do you think I am with you, exactly?” He stood over Steve now. One of his hands gripped the armrest while the other stayed at his side. “Tell me. What am I with you?”

 

 

            “You just… you just _are_. I don’t know,” Steve groaned and slouched further down, away from Billy. He licked his lips and felt that fear low in his stomach again. Nancy had cheated on him. His parents wished they could have done better and gotten him into a school. His teachers always made remarks about his grades. _Dyslexia_ hung over his head like a curse. Teachers claimed he used it as a crutch. He was just-- _used_ to people thinking less of him. Why shouldn’t Billy? “You’re not… happy like that.” He pointed out.

 

 

            “Steve,” Billy looked over him and he watched Billy go from defensive and angry to something less--something softer. There was still this edge, this _hurt_ about him. Steve had put that there. “I’m _myself_ around you. I don’t have to hide. I don’t have to fucking _pretend_ that I’m happy or that I’m enjoying myself. I can just _be_.” He watched Billy’s Adam’s apple bob and knew Billy was struggling with his words. “I don’t have to _hide_ with you.” He repeated it like it was something special and Steve’s lungs felt like they were being burned up, engulfed in heat, eating him from the inside out.

 

 

            Jesus, maybe he _was_ stupid.

 

 

            “Billy…” Steve watched him and felt like shit and maybe he _deserved_ to feel like shit.

 

 

            “I’m not going anywhere,” Billy said, and Steve believed him. He wasn’t sure why, but those four words meant something. It was like Billy was admitting to something that he couldn’t say, and Steve responded almost immediately. He straightened up in the chair so that when Billy leaned down, their lips brushed. Billy kissed him again, another soft thing, before he edged forward. Steve held still as Billy climbed into his lap, as his knees tucked in next to his hips.

 

 

            Thank _god_ it was a huge chair, Steve thought distantly while Billy explored his mouth with his tongue again. When he was sure the chair wasn’t going to snap underneath them, Steve wrapped his arms around Billy’s waist and licked and sucked at his tongue. Billy pulled away first, but then he kissed and breathed choppily over Steve’s jaw, up to his ear.

 

 

            “Not going anywhere,” Billy repeated right next to Steve’s ear. He slipped his fingers just underneath the hem of Billy’s shirt and pushed it up so he could feel along the small of his back, his spine. Billy still gripped the arm of the chair with one hand, but the other shifted to circle just beneath Steve’s jaw. He held just tight enough to make Steve’s heart stutter, and then forced him to tilt his head up and to the side.

 

 

            “Oh, and Steve?” Billy stroked his thumb over the side of his neck. It made Steve shiver, made him acutely aware of the straining in his jeans.

 

 

            “Yeah?” Steve dug his fingers into Billy’s sides.

 

 

            “I am one hundred fucking percent gay,” Billy said, voice low and amused, “so those girls have nothing on you. Now, if they were _guys_ \--”

 

 

            Steve shoved Billy off of his lap and watched him topple to the ground. Billy laughed, despite the way he winced after his head hit the floor.

 

 

            “You’re an asshole,” Steve groused as he stood up from the chair. Billy wheezed against the floor and then kicked his legs out, spreading them in a wide v. Steve watched him pillow his head with his arms, his eyes lidded and his lips quirked in that infuriating smirk he always wore when he had _won_ something. “An attractive, egotistical asshole.”

 

 

            “Only for you, baby,” Billy drawled and pressed his foot against Steve’s leg. “Are you gonna help me up or just leave me down here?”

 

 

            “I don’t know yet,” Steve tilted his head and looked over Billy. They were in Florida and it was _hot_ , so Billy was wearing just a black tank top and a pair of jeans. His skin, golden from the sun no matter _where_ they went, begged for his hands and his mouth and Steve _wanted_ so badly. He licked over his lower lip and stepped between Billy’s legs. With a gentle nudge, he forced Billy’s thighs to part wider, until it _had_ to be considered obscene. “Y’look good like that.”

 

 

            “I’m thinking you have a thing for dominance, Stevie,” Billy mused, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Steve watched as his pupils began to eat up the blue of his irises. It encouraged him to shuck his shoes, kicking them to the side. “A really-- _Jesus_ \--” Billy’s breath stuttered as Steve slid his foot over the crotch of his pants. He was hard and hot underneath the arch and the way he twitched and flexed his arms should have been fucking _illegal_.

 

 

            “I’m thinking,” Steve said as he pulled his foot back and watched Billy’s chest rise and fall in stuttered breaths. “That you’ve been _teasing me_ for weeks on fucking purpose.”

 

 

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Billy sounded mock-innocent and Steve _knew_. All the kissing, all the crowding in public places, all the random grabs and the breaths against the shell of his ear. Billy did _all of that_ on purpose to drive him up a wall. Well, it fucking _worked_.

 

 

            “Bullshit,” Steve raked his eyes over Billy’s arms again, his chest, his stomach. “Take your top off.” It wasn’t necessarily an order, too breathless to be one, but Billy followed it, anyway. He sat up, grabbed the hem of his tank, and pulled it up and over his head. After he tossed it to the side, Billy laid back down on the floor and put his arms behind his head.

 

 

            “Wouldn’t this be more comfortable in the bed?” Billy teased and Steve wanted to pinch him. He had given Steve _numerous_ fucking erections in public and he was worried about comfort _now_? What a _brat_. Steve almost made a comment about Billy being on the same level as the kids he used to babysit, but bit it back in favor of eyeing his naked chest.

 

 

            Billy was wearing gold loops in his nipples and they shined under the fluorescent light in the hotel room. It was a good color on him, really, especially against his tan skin. Steve _hated_ that he looked so damned good. Edible. Like a fucking kabob or some shit. He squinted and nudged Billy’s thigh with his foot. Billy’s eyebrows popped up, but he kept his arms cushioned behind his head, his fingers tucked around the opposite forearms.

 

 

            “Arch for me,” Steve murmured and Billy chuckled. He may not have been far off the mark. Steve _liked_ that Billy did what he told him to. He liked that fire in his stomach and the way he felt--sort of powerful when Billy obliged. Steve watched as Billy arched off the floor, spine bowed and hips pushed against the carpet while his tongue darted over his lips. “That… should be illegal.” Steve breathed out as Billy shifted, as his hips rolled with his spine in one long, smooth motion. It made Steve wonder about what it would feel like to have him _inside_ of his body while Billy moved like that.

 

 

_Christ_.

 

 

            “Pretty sure they’d make me illegal if they could,” Billy purred and Steve pressed his ankle against his thigh. “What now, pretty boy? You want something?” His eyes were lidded low, blue eaten up by black, and Steve realized that _he_ did that to him. Not one of the fans. Not another guy. _Steve_ did, and he wanted more.

 

 

            “I want a lot of things,” Steve nodded toward Billy’s jeans. “Take ‘em off.”

 

 

            “You’re so cute when you’re bossy,” Billy meant it to be a joke. He _obviously_ did, but the way he was looking at Steve and how easily he did what he said made it clear that he liked where this was going. It made Steve wonder what kinds of things Billy was into. Maybe now was the time to find out. He stepped back and waited for Billy to shimmy his jeans off. If they weren’t so goddamn tight, he doubted that would be such a problem--

 

 

            And that’s about where Steve’s thought process ended.

 

 

            Billy didn’t wear anything underneath because, of course, he fucking didn’t. That meant that Steve got an eyeful of his jewelry--jewelry that hadn’t been there when they had played basketball together. He took in how hard Billy was, how his tip was smeared with pre-come and just underneath the head of his cock, was a gold bar with little beads nestled on each end. Underneath that was the same, and an identical one below that.

 

 

            “I’ve heard pictures last longer,” Billy’s voice snapped Steve out of his reverie. He looked up and watched Billy wrap a hand around his cock and stroke up. His fingers moved expertly over the piercings, which meant they had been there for awhile.

 

 

            “Don’t put it past me,” Steve managed to keep his voice calm, even, which was a fucking feat, considering. “I could have _hundreds_ of dick pics on my phone.” He looked back up to Billy’s face as he laughed and his own lips quirked. Billy was right--he may put on charm for those girls, but none of them got to see this side him. The laughter was genuine and sweet, if a little rough from _want_. Steve wouldn’t complain about that.

 

 

            “That would be great for the tabloids. Steve Harrington, hoarder of dick pics--” Billy grunted as Steve pushed his foot against his thigh again. “I’m just _saying_ \--”

 

 

            “You’re being a brat,” Steve waved his hand toward Billy’s, which still stroked along the piercings, from base to tip and back again. “Stop touching yourself.”

 

 

            “You gonna do it for me?” Billy wagged his tongue at him and he snorted. Billy complied, anyway, and folded his arm up and over his head so he could rest back against his forearm again. “Or are you just gonna watch me? Like some weirdo?”

 

 

            “I guess I’m going to be a weirdo,” Steve shrugged and then hesitated. “You stay there.” He shifted away and rummaged through his luggage until he pulled out a tube of lube. “I’ve been waiting for weeks, you know. _Weeks_.” The way Billy smirked at him from the floor meant that the asshole was _guilty_ and _knew_ Steve had been struggling not to combust.

 

 

            “Sounds painful,” Billy purred at him and if Steve didn’t desperately want to know what it felt like to have Billy inside of him _yesterday_ , he would have walked out. Instead, he stepped between Billy’s legs again and dropped the lube on his chest. As soon as Billy laughed, Steve pulled his polo up and over his head. He tossed it on the bed, looked down at Billy and licked his lips.

 

 

            “I want you to fuck me,” Steve said it as evenly as he could, but it still came out breathless. Billy smirked up at him, but there was a flash of something across his face. His arms flexed and Steve caught the way his fingers twitched. If anyone knew Billy well enough, they’d look at the way his muscles moved in his arms.

 

 

            “I can do that,” Billy watched him, his eyebrows knitted together and his cock dripping pre-come onto his stomach. “I can _so_ do that.”

 

 

            “You’ve teased me, though,” Steve’s eyes darkened and he kneeled down, in between Billy’s thighs. He could feel himself being watched as he wrapped his fingers around Billy’s cock. He stroked up once, reveling in the way the bars and beads felt against his fingers and his palm. As he stroked down, he took his time, flicking his fingers over the metal. Steve observed the way Billy tensed and gasped, how his hips twitched just enough to be noticeable. “So, you don’t get to touch. _Yet_.”

 

 

            “I’m just gonna--” Billy grunted and rolled his hips, pushing them forward so he slid through Steve’s palm. “--assume you know what you’re doing.”

 

 

            Steve squeezed his hand around the head of Billy’s cock and then let him go. “I know exactly what I’m doing. What do you think I’ve _been_ doing to myself?”

 

 

            “That is the _best_ image,” Billy managed, breathless but almost laughing, “that I’ve _ever_ had in my fucking head.”

 

 

            “Now you’ll have the real thing,” Steve huffed, “not that you _deserve_ it, really. Fucking _weeks_ of teasing.” He pushed his jeans and his boxers down at the same time and tossed them to the side. He settled back down across Billy’s waist, his knees digging into the carpet and his ankles next to Billy’s thighs. “But you’re _just_ watching,” he reminded as he grabbed the lube and slicked his index and middle finger. “Because jackasses don’t get rewards, Billy Hargrove.”

 

 

            “The horror,” Billy snorted, clearly trying not to laugh as Steve pressed his ass back against his cock. “Steve--” When his arms started to move, Steve eased up and shook his head.

 

 

            “Nope,” Steve popped the _p_ , hoped he sounded _really_ obnoxious, and only settled back down when Billy’s arms flopped back onto the floor again. “I’m serious. No touching.” He snapped the tube closed and kept his eyes on Billy’s as he reached back and pressed his fingers against his hole. He hadn’t lied. He had spent the last two weeks fucking himself out of sheer frustration, and now that he had Billy underneath him, he was going to _show_ him what that did to him. Steve worked one finger into his body and couldn’t help his own response. He gasped, pushed back, and dragged his teeth over his lower lip. He saw how Billy watched him, felt how hard and hot he was against his thigh, and _knew_ , distantly, that Billy wouldn’t be able to keep still for long. Telling him to stay still was like ordering a lion to eat grass. It just _didn’t_ work. Not for long, anyway.

 

            As Steve worked in a second finger, he noticed the way Billy’s arms flexed. His lips were parted and his cheeks were flushed, and Steve hadn’t even _done_ anything to him yet. That same thrill from earlier settled in his stomach, hot and heavy and _good_. Billy had so much power on stage. He _made_ people look at him like he was the sun, even when he didn’t mean to. It was nice to have that, nicer to have _Billy_ giving into him.

 

 

            “You ever been sucked off while fingering yourself?” Billy’s question nearly knocked Steve over. He looked up, surprised, and his fingers stilled in his body. “I won’t touch,” he added, and he _was_ breathless now. “You can just--come up here--fuck my mouth, yeah? While you’re doing that.”

 

 

            “You’re--you’re serious,” Steve watched Billy’s tongue dart out over his lips, watched him grin.

 

 

            “Come up here,” Billy cooed and Steve-- _fuck_ \--Steve listened. He pulled his fingers from his body and crawled up until his knees brushed just beneath Billy’s arms. When he leaned over, his clean hand caught one of Billy’s. They laced their fingers together, and it was _intimate_ and strange and _perfect_.  Steve dropped his head so he could watch the way Billy’s lips parted. He adjusted until the head of his cock slid over Billy’s lips. It was hot and almost _too much_ , but Steve pushed forward and Billy just--just took him like it was nothing. He pressed his tongue against him and swallowed as soon as Steve hit the back of his throat and _fuck_ if he wasn’t going to come too soon.

 

 

            “I don’t think I can…” Steve had his other hand on the carpet. His fingers dug against the threads as he pulled back and sank into that wet heat again. Billy swallowed again, sucked eagerly at him, and then he reached out to grab the lube. It was a silent question, a _can I touch?_ Steve bobbed his head in a yes and tightened his grip on Billy’s other hand. He heard the tube being opened and felt Billy’s hand against his ass before his fingers pressed against his hole.

 

 

            When Billy pressed the first finger into his body, Steve shuddered. He rocked forward, felt Billy gag a bit, and stopped to look down. Billy winked at him and Steve was _sure_ he would be smirking if his mouth wasn’t full. He tried to glare, he really did, but then Billy was working in a second finger and his eyes closed. His fingers twitched against Billy’s and he fought between pivoting his hips back onto Billy’s spreading fingers or sinking into his mouth. Either way, he was probably fucked.

 

 

            Definitely fucked.

 

 

            “Fuck, Billy, we gotta stop--” Steve reached back and squeezed Billy’s wrist. Slowly, gently, Billy pulled his fingers from his body and Steve edged back just enough to pull his cock out of Billy’s fucking throat. “You look--holy shit, you look _so good_.” He reached down and slid his thumb over the spit and pre-come that had managed to escape the side of Billy’s lips. He smeared it over his lower lip and then pressed his thumb between his lips, over his tongue. Billy just _let him_ , his eyes half-lidded and his breathing hard.

 

 

            It wasn’t hard to imagine what Billy might look like while Steve fucked _him_ instead of the other way around. Maybe something like this. Maybe a little more fucked out. Maybe a little more breathless or raw. He wanted to know.

 

 

            “Would you let me fuck you?” Steve asked. “I mean, not right _now_ , but--”

 

 

            “Yeah. _Yeah_. Fuck yeah, I would,” Billy laughed, even with his voice roughed up. “I’d take your dick any day, pretty boy.”

 

 

            “That’s--that’s ah--” Steve licked his lips. “That’s good to know.”

 

 

            “Jesus, Steve. Just sit on my dick already.” Billy pushed at his hips, but Steve could tell it was playful and maybe a purposeful distraction from what they were talking about.

 

 

            “Billy,” Steve pressed a hand down against Billy’s chest as he backed up. He stopped as he felt the hot brand of Billy’s cock against his ass and paused. “How many people have you let fuck you?” Probably _not_ the best time to ask, but the whole avoidance factor had him curious.

 

 

            “I’m a rock’n roll slut, Steve. What do you think?” Billy’s eyes glittered, though, and his lips quirked as Steve reached back to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock. The leftover slick on his fingers was enough to cover him, at least, so Steve didn’t have to fucking grab for the lube again. Immediately, Billy arched into his hand and moaned, a soft sound that made Steve’s skin too hot.

 

 

            “I think you’re lying,” Steve pushed himself up and his thighs burned as he stayed in that position, the head of Billy’s cock pressing just right up against his hole. “Tell me and I’ll sit.” Probably the _worst_ bargain ever, but--Steve was _curious_.

 

 

            “You’re--” Billy grunted and his whole body was flexing now, muscles twitching and steadying, as if getting ready to fucking pounce. Steve sucked his lower lip between his teeth and edged down slow enough that just the head pushed passed the tight ring of muscle. “You’re _insufferable_.”

 

 

            “And you’re a brat,” Steve laughed, but it hitched as soon as Billy pivoted his hips up and drove further into his body. He moaned and dropped his head back. “Not fucking _fair_ ,” he breathed out.

 

 

            “I never said I played fair,” Billy grinned, seeming triumphant, “And technically _I’m not touching_.” He dropped his hips again, only to drive them up with the same force at the same angle and Steve was _gone_. He whimpered and sank down the rest of the way. He could feel how Billy’s cock slid against him, how those bars and beads gave _that_ much more sensation. Steve hadn’t thought they would have made much of a difference, but _fuck_ was he wrong.

 

 

            “Cheater,” Steve tipped forward and settled a hand on Billy’s shoulder. He steadied himself there, his other hand pressed down on the floor. Billy laughed, but it was cut short with a groan as Steve rolled his hips forward and then back. It forced Billy’s cock nearly all of the way out of him before sinking back in. It felt _good_ and made Steve dizzy with it. He _finally_ had Billy inside of him. He _finally_ felt full and stretched and _so good_. “Billy--”

 

 

            Something obviously snapped for Billy then. Steve gasped as Billy sat up and cupped his hands and forearms just below his thighs. He lifted him up, off his cock, and tucked him to his chest so he could roll onto his feet, Steve bracketed in his arms.

 

 

            “Not gonna fuck you on the floor for our first time,” Billy’s lips brushed his ear and Steve shuddered and then huffed as he was dropped onto the bed. Before he could complain, Billy was on top of him. He grabbed Steve’s hips, pushed his thighs apart, and tugged him up enough to press the head of his cock past the tight entrance of his body. He sank into him, slow, _agonizingly_ slow, and Steve began to writhe by the time he bottomed out.

 

 

            “Come on,” Steve gripped the sheets at first, but as soon as Billy moved, he reached up to hold onto his arms. “ _Move_ ,” he shoved his hips up and delighted in Billy’s groan, in how every muscle seemed to tense under that tan skin.

 

 

            “Needy,” Billy muttered, but he didn’t seem to actually mind. Steve dropped his head back as Billy’s grip on his hip tightened. He held Steve still as he moved and it was that same fucking roll of his hips that Steve had watched earlier. Steve gasped for breath underneath him in between groans and whimpers. He dug his nails into Billy’s arms, held on tightly, and just _felt_ the way he filled him up and stretched him out. It felt fucking _fantastic_ , and the way Billy grunted and breathed assured him that he felt that way, too.

 

 

            That also meant that Steve was _not_ going to last much longer. He reached down and curled his fingers around his own cock. He pressed his shoulders back into the bed and arched his back off the mattress. Billy immediately wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close enough to drop down. He licked over one of Steve’s nipples and then bit, _pulled_ , and Steve whimpered. It was all it took for that coiled tension in his lower spine to burst. Pleasure sang through his nerves, bolting through his limbs, forcing his eyes shut. He arched into Billy’s body again and _knew_ he was leaving marks on his arms and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

 

            Steve moved his hand from his spent cock to Billy’s arm again and tightened his grip there. Billy still thrust into him, still shoved him down into the bed and peppered kisses over his collarbone, his chest, his shoulder, as he moved. Steve’s thighs shook and his stomach tightened as _too much_ became a mantra in his head. He panted and buried one of his hands into Billy’s hair. After he twisted the curls between his fingers, Steve tugged and pushed his hips down at the same time.

 

 

            Billy groaned his name against Steve’s skin and _fuck_ if that didn’t make him feel good. He met Billy’s next few stuttered thrusts and then clamped his thighs around his hips  when he felt Billy come. It was easy to keep him locked there, to force their bodies as close as physically possible while Billy panted against his shoulder and loosened the grip on his waist.

 

 

            “No. More. Teasing,” Steve mumbled. He flopped his arms around Billy’s shoulders and dragged his fingers over his spine.

 

 

            “No promises,” Billy chuckled and Steve tugged at the closest piece of curly, blonde hair.

 

 

            “Asshole.”

 

 

~*~

 

 

            “Jesus Christ, _finally_ ,” Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and Steve turned absolutely red. “Do you even _understand_ what it’s like living with you two? It’s like babysitting fourteen year olds!”

 

 

            “Excuse me. I have _experience_ in babysitting fourteen year olds and that is definitely not how we act,” Steve thinned his lips and looked at Billy, who looked as guilty as a fucking kid being caught with his hand in the damned cookie jar.

 

 

            “Oh, right. _Drunk_ fourteen year olds who are in love who _don’t know_ how to express their feelings,” Tommy gripped his cup tighter and Steve shushed him, or attempted to, as his eyes darted around the tiny coffee shop. Really, how Billy found these places was beyond him.

 

 

            “He’s… kinda sorta right,” Billy gestured with his hand, a shake, sort of, and Steve gawked at him.

 

 

            “ _What_? Excuse me? You think I act like a drunk--”

 

 

            Billy clasped his hand over the back of Steve’s neck and tugged him forward so he could press their lips together. “No, dumbass. That I love you.”

 

 

            “Oh…” Steve breathed out against Billy’s mouth. He blinked. “ _Oh_.” His eyes brightened, then, and his lips curled into one of those stupid, wide smiles he knew he got whenever he was too fucking happy (or high). “I love you, too.”

 

 

            “ _Jesus_ ,” Tommy slouched down into the seat. “Okay, rules. One, you can’t fuck on the bus. I swear, if I hear those noises Steve makes--”

 

 

            “Excuse me?” Billy looked over and Steve thought, for a moment, about how he should have invested in that first aid kit for the bus.

 

 

            “--when he’s about to come, I am _walking_.” Tommy ended his sentence and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

 

            “Stevie,” Billy drawled and tilted his head toward Steve, those blue eyes glittering with interest and something a little less nice. “You wanna fill me in?”

 

 

            Steve swallowed down the last bit of his hot chocolate and bounced onto his feet. “Nope. No. Nada. Don’t. I’m gonna get another drink.” As he attempted to walk away, Billy wrapped an arm around his thighs and pushed at the back of his knees. He toppled over into Billy’s lap with a grunt and then glared at him.

 

 

            “Don’t be dramatic,” Tommy muttered as he sipped at his coffee. “You’re not Nancy and he’s not fucking me and I’m not fucking him. It’s all good in the neighborhood, man.”

 

 

            Steve relaxed as soon as he felt Billy ease against the couch. Thank _god_ that was--

 

 

            “But Steve’s dick is _huge_ \--”

 

 

            Dammit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. It means the world to me! Happy birthday to my boo, Nico. I love you, sweetheart. You're one of the kindest people I've met and you deserve the world.


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